Ink and Shadows

by Ellery Adams

  “Go ahead. I’ll deal with Clifford after I detach a candy apple from the rug.” Nora sat back on her heels and smiled at Sheldon. “You were incredible today. As always. But you must be exhausted. Do you want to take Monday off?”

  Sheldon looked horrified. “No way. We have to prep for the next round of festivals. I’ll rest tomorrow. You hit the garage sales. All the autumnal pieces you bought last week are gone, so do your book club thing and then go to bed early. You need to take care of yourself.”

  After pinching Nora’s cheek like his Jewish grandmother used to pinch his, Sheldon left.

  Nora freed the candy apple, wiped off the Clifford books, emptied the trash, and vacuumed the floors. At home, she took a quick shower and changed her clothes. Her hair was still damp when she pulled on her coat. For the first time ever, her sofa seemed more appealing than a Secret, Book, and Scone Society meeting. Nora loved her friends. She loved books. And she loved food. But she was really tired.

  What about Celeste? She’s all alone.

  With this thought in mind, Nora hurried back to the shop.

  June was waiting next to the delivery door, a cardboard box in her arms.

  “What’s in the baking dish?” Nora’s stomach gurgled in anticipation.

  “Chicken and wild rice casserole. Estella made spinach salad and Hester’s bringing leftovers from the store.”

  Nora frowned. “I supply the paper goods and drinks while the rest of you bring food. It doesn’t seem right.”

  “Honey, you need to make like Elsa in Frozen and let it go. I have more time to cook than you do. And I enjoy cooking.” June carried the box into the ticket agent’s booth. “After last night, it felt good to do something productive today. I made this casserole for us, but I also made things for Celeste. Stuff to fill up her freezer. Comfort food.”

  Nora took a bottle of white wine out of the fridge. “She won’t be ready for comfort books yet, but she’ll need company. Not the sit around, drink tea, and murmur condolences kind of company. She’ll need us to help her at Soothe. I just don’t know how we’ll manage it.”

  “Women come out of the womb knowing how to multitask,” Estella said from the doorway.

  “What are you guys talking about?” Hester called. “I just got here.”

  The four friends decided to put all talk of Celeste on hold until they’d filled their plates with June’s casserole and Estella’s salad. Hester’s bakery box contained a hodgepodge of desserts including an apple cinnamon blondie, pecan pie brownie, pumpkin bread, apple strudel, and several ginger cookies.

  “I’ll let my supper settle before I dive into that box,” said June after they sat down. “But I want you all to know that the pecan pie brownie is mine.”

  “The cook should always get the first pick when it comes to dessert.” Nora pointed at her plate with her fork. “This casserole is so good. What else did you make for Celeste?”

  June rattled off a list of dishes that included mac and cheese, sausage lasagna, chicken potpie, and meatloaf. She and Hester were trying to convince Estella that meatloaf glazes were better than ketchup when Nora heard someone knock on the back door.

  Since no one else had noticed, she slipped away from the readers’ circle, walked to the back, and cracked the steel door. She was stunned to see Celeste standing on the other side.

  “Can I come in?” she asked. Her voice was as faint as a breath of wind.

  “Of course.”

  Nora opened the door wide and waved Celeste inside.

  “My book club is just finishing dinner. Will you join us? It’s a very small group, and I think you know everyone,” she added, guessing that Celeste wouldn’t want to socialize. “It’s just Hester, June, and Estella.”

  When Celeste hesitated, Nora said, “We can talk right here too. Whatever is more comfortable for you.”

  Celeste glanced around Nora, looking down the dim hallway as if she could see the source of the female voices.

  “Come on. There’s a soft chair and a glass of wine waiting for you,” Nora said.

  When Celeste nodded, Nora slipped an arm around the other woman’s tiny waist and guided her to the readers’ circle.

  June, Estella, and Hester were laughing about something when Nora reappeared. Seeing Celeste, the laughter instantly died.

  “Hey, lady. Come try the best seat in the house. I’ve warmed it up for you.” June waved at her favorite purple chair.

  Nora fetched an extra wineglass from the ticket agent’s office. “This isn’t exactly a fine vintage,” she told Celeste as she poured. “It’s the kind of wine that grows on you. After two or three glasses, it’s almost good.”

  Nora was drinking sparkling water, but she would have gladly gulped down a glass of cheap red wine at that moment. She wasn’t like June. Situations like this made her uncomfortable, and she knew that alcohol would take the edge off.

  If Celeste can survive losing her daughter, then you can survive a little awkwardness.

  Celeste accepted the glass and stared at the crimson liquid as if hypnotized. Finally, she took a sip. The wine stained her pale lips, and Nora wished that she’d given her the white instead.

  After a second sip, Celeste looked at Nora. “I need a favor, and I didn’t know where else to go.”

  “Anything. Just ask,” Nora said.

  “Could you drive me to Bren’s house? We only had one car, and she’s been driving it. I don’t even know where it’s parked.” She sagged as if this short speech had exhausted her.

  Nora was confused. Didn’t Bren live in the apartment above the store? As she thought back on the day she’d stopped by Soothe to deliver her good luck gifts, she remembered that Celeste had been waiting for Bren to arrive with the muffins. Bren hadn’t been arriving from upstairs. She’d been driving to the store from another place. Her house, apparently.

  Nora shot June a questioning look, and she responded with a definitive nod.

  “We can go in my car,” June told Celeste. “Would you like to sit for a spell or head out now?”

  Celeste made her wishes clear by putting down her wineglass and getting to her feet. The rest of the women followed suit, and soon, they were all loaded into June’s Bronco.

  “The house is on Hummingbird Lane,” Celeste said from the passenger seat. “Way back in the woods.”

  June had to do some creative maneuvering to get around the festival traffic. Though most of the events were over, the country music band had drawn a big crowd. The music fans had claimed most of the parking spots, which had all the other drivers circling like vultures, desperate to find a place to park before they missed their dinner reservations.

  June lowered her window, and the music from the park filled the silence inside the Bronco’s cabin. Even after she’d cleared the town limits, June kept the window open. The night air whisked in, carrying the scents of pine trees and wood smoke.

  Hummingbird Lane was a ten-minute drive from downtown. The houses on the gravel road were small and private. Dense trees and long driveways made it hard to see the homes from the road, but Nora caught flashes of woodpiles, outbuildings, chain link dog fences, and chicken pens.

  Bren’s house was grasshopper green with a white trim that had yellowed with age. A cracked wall sconce burned next to the front door, attracting a cloud of gnats. Vinyl blinds hung from the two front windows. Paint peeled from every surface. There were cobwebs in most corners. The stoop was dark with mold.

  “We needed a place with double ovens. This was all I could afford,” Celeste said, patting her pocket.

  She pushed her key into the lock, but the door swung inward before she had the chance to turn it.

  She froze.

  Nora was right behind Celeste, and when she stiffened with fear, so did Nora. The feeling was contagious.

  But Nora also felt protective of Celeste, so she gently pushed her out of the way and gave the door a shove. It swung open, hinges creaking until it stopped moving.

  Nora fumble
d along the inside wall for a light switch. When her fingers found the hard plastic, she flicked two switches, illuminating the living room of Bren’s house.

  “Oh, no,” she breathed.

  She stepped into the room, seeing nothing but destruction. Celeste shot past her, heading down a short hallway. Nora raced after her, only to halt in the doorway of a bedroom. Estella, June, and Hester crowded around her, and they all stared at the chaotic scene.

  Someone had turned Bren’s bedroom inside out. Clothes were strewn everywhere. The bedding had been stripped and tossed into a corner. The pillows and mattress had been slashed in multiple places. The furniture—plastic drawers and a table—was crushed. The closet doors were open, revealing a suitcase with slits in its lining, a black ankle boot, and a broken lamp.

  Celeste sank to the floor. Pulling her knees to her chest, she began to rock back and forth.

  Nora was beside her in an instant. She put her arm around Celeste’s shoulders and tried to calm her. But Celeste wouldn’t stop rocking. Her eyes had taken on that faraway look again.

  “Do you know who did this?” Nora whispered to her. “Was it the man with the tattooed arm?” She glanced back at her friends and was relieved to see that Hester had her phone pressed to her ear. She was calling Andrews. Good. Help would soon be on the way.

  Nora rubbed Celeste’s back and told her that it would be okay. But as she took in the carnage that was Bren’s bedroom, she wondered how anything could ever be okay for Celeste again.

  Because someone had broken into Bren’s house. Someone had torn Bren’s belongings to shreds.

  Had that person found what they’d been looking for? Nora didn’t think so. From the look of things, that person had tracked down Bren instead.

  Had she failed to provide the item’s location? And had that failure cost her her life?

  Staring at the gutted remains of a teddy bear, Nora was afraid to discover the answer to that question.

  The rage that created this carnage was still present in the house. It lingered like a foul odor or a bad memory. Nora could see a knife slicing through the suitcase lining and sofa cushions. She could imagine hands ripping and smashing. She could hear glass breaking and wood splintering.

  This was no ordinary anger. This wasn’t a teenage prank or an ex-boyfriend seeking revenge. This was a unique kind of rage.

  A killer’s rage.

  Chapter 8

  Friendship is unnecessary, like philosophy, like art . . .

  It has no survival value; rather it is one of those

  things that give value to survival.

  —CS Lewis

  Nora was among the first customers at a multi-house yard sale that Sunday. There were great finds at the sale, and she came away with two boxloads of vintage books. It was a random assortment. There were nursery rhymes, literary classics, detective novels, and obscure children’s titles, but every book was illustrated and in fine condition. Nora also bought two coffee table books on Scottish tartans and clans, which would end up on the display table she’d organize in time for next weekend’s festival, the Highland Games.

  Not only did Nora get lucky with her purchases, but one of her regular customers was also at the yard sale. Wyatt, a fan of historical mysteries, contemporary thrillers, and graphic novels, offered to cart Nora’s books back to town.

  “I can leave them on your deck,” he said, pointing up at the sky. “There’s talk of rain, but I don’t think it’ll hit until this afternoon.”

  After gratefully accepting his offer, Nora made a mental note to give Wyatt a free copy of The Silent Patient the next time he stopped by Miracle Books.

  “You’re a lifesaver,” said Nora. “If you have time, come see me this week. One of last year’s biggest thrillers is coming out in paperback on Tuesday. This book is right up your alley.”

  She gave Wyatt a spoiler-free teaser as they loaded her boxes into his trunk.

  “I have twenty unread books at home, but I need that book now,” Wyatt said. “Suddenly, Tuesday seems very far away.”

  Laughing, he got into his car and drove away.

  By lunchtime, Nora had purchased the best wares from five yard sales and the flea market. Sheldon would be delighted by the pile of treasures in the bookshop’s stockroom. There’s nothing he liked more than cleaning, tagging, and arranging shelf enhancers. Several items like the cast-iron truck carrying miniature wood pumpkins, the vintage ceramic owl family, the acorn cookie jar, and the wicker squirrel-shaped basket would sell quickly. Nora could jack up the price and they’d still move, but she wanted her customers to return again and again. The best way to earn their loyalty was to treat them fairly.

  Nora should have been pleased with her morning’s work, but she hadn’t slept well again last night and was starting to drag. Until now, she’d been too focused on replenishing her inventory to think about Bren’s wrecked house. But in the quiet of her own house, images of the destruction crowded her thoughts.

  Even worse than these was the memory of Celeste, sitting on the bedroom floor and hugging herself as she rocked back and forth. Nora couldn’t stop seeing that moment. She started a load of laundry and dusted the living room, but these chores failed to distract her. Finally, she decided to get out of the house.

  Nora walked to the grocery store, telling herself that a little exercise was better than nothing. She was far too sleep-deprived to hike. All she wanted to do was spend the rest of the afternoon with a cup of tea and a book. She wanted to escape reality for a few hours. Was that too much to ask?

  Apparently, it was. Because Sheriff Grant McCabe was standing outside the grocery store, watching her approach.

  At the sight of him, the knot that had formed in Nora’s chest the night she’d found Bren’s body loosened a little. McCabe fixed things. He balanced the scales. He made things better.

  “You’re back.” She smiled in relief, but also because she was glad to see him.

  McCabe reached out and cupped Nora’s shoulder. “I hear you’ve had a tough couple of days.”

  “Not as tough as Celeste’s.”

  McCabe lowered his arm and nodded solemnly.

  “How is she?” Nora asked.

  “I walked here to buy one of those ready-made sandwiches to eat at my desk.” He gestured at her reusable tote bags. “If you want to swing by after you’re done shopping, we can talk.”

  Nora glanced at the display of pumpkins and potted chrysanthemums in front of the store. People streamed through the automatic doors, waving at friends or pausing to say a quick hello. It was a normal day for everyone in Miracle Springs. Everyone except for Celeste Leopold.

  “I could get a sandwich too and shop later. If that works.”

  She saw a hint of a smile on McCabe’s face. “That works.”

  The sandwiches weren’t good. McCabe didn’t draw attention to the wilted lettuce or soggy tomatoes on his Italian sub. He just dumped them in the trash can. The two pieces of stringy bacon from Nora’s turkey, bacon, and cheese croissant ended up there as well.

  “The best part of this meal is the chips,” she said, though she didn’t finish hers because the sandwich had ruined her appetite. Besides, she was ready for an update on Celeste. Sitting back in her chair, Nora waited for McCabe to fill her in.

  But the sheriff had his own agenda. “I read the article indirectly targeting Miracle Books, Soothe, and Red Bird Gifts. I’ve heard about the vandalized sign and the items placed on the angel statue. Tell me about the pumpkin you found.”

  Nora felt a twinge of irritation. She hadn’t wanted news of the devil pumpkin to be widely known. Hester must have said something to Andrews, and Andrews had passed the information on to McCabe.

  “It’s no big deal. Someone put a pumpkin with devil horns and a mean face in my planter. I painted over the face, added a book quote, and used the pumpkin as a conversation piece. It turned out to be good for business.”

  If McCabe admired her lemonade-out-of-lemons attitude, he didn�
��t show it. “Do you think they’re done? The person or people leaving these devils?”

  Nora spread her hands. “Celeste’s daughter is dead. If people keep harassing her after they hear that Bren’s gone, then there’s no telling when they’ll stop. Speaking of Celeste, how is she?”

  McCabe opened the file on his desk. “Deputy Fuentes caught me up on everything that happened while I was away, but it’s not the same as hearing it directly from those who were involved. Can you help me see things from your perspective? I’d like you to start at the beginning. From the first time you met the Leopold women.”

  Since Nora would do anything to help the sheriff discover what happened to Bren, and to Bren’s house, she immediately started talking.

  It took longer than expected to relay every detail, and she ate the rest of her chips and drank all of her iced tea as she talked. When her story was done, she felt totally spent.

  “I may need your help,” McCabe said after jotting down a note. “We can’t make heads or tails of that book page left under your welcome mat. I’ve reached out to a number of professors and librarians to see if any of them recognize that language, but I don’t know when they’ll respond. If they respond at all. Since it’s a Sunday, most won’t see my email until tomorrow, but I want to understand how this document fits in. Do you know someone who could identify it? An expert on antique books?”

  Roberta Rabinowitz, Nora thought. If anyone can identify that book page, it’s her.

  “I could give you a couple of names,” she said.

  McCabe passed her a piece of notebook paper, and she wrote down Roberta’s name and her position at Columbia. She also added the name of a special collections librarian at the Library of Congress.

  “If these two people can’t identify that book page, no one can,” Nora said. Before McCabe could speak again, she asked, “Do you think that’s why Bren’s house was torn apart? Was someone looking for that page?”

  “Without knowing what it is, that’s hard to say.”